A nearby outbreak of unplanned chaos blighted my travel plans and some small opportunities for life in a more sociable world. Not deterred and armed with a deep seated joy for life and a manic kind of obstinacy I stayed at home did some ironing. With only two cats, a dead mouse and dead spider for company but my spirit refused to crack despite the voices of doom and uncertainty playing on the radio. As dusk fell I feasted on strangely flavoured tuna and contemplated the lost art of songwriting whilst solving simple mechanical problems in my head. After a while I put on a woolly jumper, reflecting on the changes of season and the poor news coverage regularly provided by BBC Scotland. A channel that is easily bad when it could quite easily be good. I'm not sure what's wrong there. Now a cat is lying across the keys of my laptop like some furry bolted on keyboard guard. Time to do something else.
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